The Waiting Game
by bubbletoes
Summary: The one they call the vision, he bears the gift." Chronicling the evolving relationship between Riddick and Jack, because they've waited long enough. AU.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: When I fist saw Pitch Black, the idea for this popped into my head, but I kinda put it on a back burner. Now that Chronicles is out, I decided to dust it off and take it for a spin. This is probably gonna be a longer piece, but it's gonna be a one shot for now. Please, read and review J  
  
The Waiting Game  
  
--Prologue  
  
He remembered the first time he held her.  
  
They'd finally reached New Mecca, and it was the first night of natural sleep that any of them had since the planet. This wasn't the drug-induced, dream world of cryo; this was deep and hard and restful, the sleep of the righteous--or at least in his case, the sleep of a survivor. It was the kind of sleep that could happen anywhere, the kind that would overcome you on a soft bed or a pile of rocks, so long as it was a place to lay your battered body down. It was the kind of sleep that, once it had you in its grip, you were gone, out like a light until your body and mind had repaired themselves enough to cope with whatever trauma awaited in your conscious mind. O yes, this was the sleep of the traumatized, the tortured; this was the human body's last defense mechanism in the face of insanity and a physical breakdown. This was the kind of sleep that nightmares can never breach.  
  
But hers did.  
  
He'd heard her screams through the thin walls of the motel, and his eyes snapped open. Thinking back, he should have realized then and there that he was changed. Should have realized in that groggy, waking moment that his life would never again be the same, mostly because something other than his own self-preservation had snapped him awake. He knew healing sleep well, perhaps better than anyone, and knew that nothing short of a fatal attack on his person could wake him from it. He was that attuned to his surroundings, and he was also that selfish. Imagine his surprise, then, sitting wrapped in a cheap synthetic sheet with a shiv in hand, that nothing but the pitiful cries of a prepubescent girl had woken him. He'd dropped the shiv back on the nightstand and slammed his head into the pillow, disgusted. Fuck that damn kid, gonna be awake all night now.   
  
He'd watched the ceiling for a while, trying to pretend that he didn't hear the damn girl's crying getting louder. These days, he wished he could say that attempting to block her out was a struggle with his new found conscience, but that would be a blatant lie. Truth was, he'd wanted to go back to sleep, and knew he probably would so long as he let her cries blend into the background. And for someone who'd been in slam as long as him, it wasn't exactly the hardest thing to do. That is, until the screaming stopped and he heard her whisper his name with such reverence and hope that it sounded like a fuckin' prayer.  
  
"Riddick."  
  
Silence, and then again, even softer this time, but much more frightened and much less hopeful.  
  
"Riddick."  
  
By the time she'd called for him the third time, barely breathing his name, he was out of bed and maneuvering himself around the holy man's sleeping form. Imam had insisted upon a separate room for the girl--a separate room that their meager money supply couldn't possibly pay for. They'd had to scrape to get a single room, but Imam had been adamant, spending a full thirty minutes pleading with the hotel manager. He'd watched the exchange with annoyance, thinking that the holy man was drawing way too much attention to them, but also internally applauding his reasoning. Imam didn't want a separate room for the girl's privacy; he wanted her as far away as possible from Riddick. The holy man didn't trust him, and that was the way it ought to be. After all, there was a reason for the bitch of a bounty on his head. Imam had wisely kept himself at arm's length, and had tried to encourage the girl to do the same. Too bad that she wasn't one to listen.  
  
Back then, he'd never admit that she'd gotten under his skin. He'd say she was just like Imam, simply a liability that he'd chosen to get rid of in a humane manner. He'd say she was a stupid kid with a bad case of hero-worship. He'd say she was a royal pain in his ass. But he was just bullshiting himself, and he'd known it the second he looked through her opened door and saw her laying still on the bed, teeth chattering like crazy and whimpering. She looked like a fuckin' dog that had gotten beat.  
  
Emotion had coursed through him then, so strong that at first he didn't recognize what he was feeling. But he'd caught on soon enough. He wanted to help her, protect her, kill whatever was haunting her, and by god, he hated himself for it. What the hell was the matter with him? He wasn't some pussy, brooding hero in a damn romance novel, but fuck if he wasn't acting like one. And truthfully, all he really wanted to do was to go over to the bed, draw her up into him, and never let her go. Shit.  
  
He'd expected it to be awkward. It wasn't. The second he touched her, the girl flew up from the bed and into his arms. She'd sobbed into his chest, tears and mucus drenching his tank top and making his skin feel clammy. He couldn't bring himself to care. He just held her tightly, smoothing his hand down the back of her head and murmuring to her. They sat like that for a while, tangled in the sweaty sheets, and as he held her, he knew that his plan to leave the next day was shot to hell. All the planning he'd done on their trip here was erased. Weeks of deciding his next move, while she had been blissfully unaware in cryo, were now a large waste of time. He wasn't leaving her now, he couldn't. He would never leave her. And if she'd doubted that, then all she'd needed to do was listen to what he was whispering in her ear.  
  
"My girl. My Jackie girl. My Jack."  
  
It was ironic, really, how this memory was the first one that came to his mind. Because he was leaving her, and it had only been about a year since that night. A full year of sharing his bed with her to keep the nightmares at bay, and a year of learning to care about another person more than himself.   
  
He'd been stupid that night, to think that he would never leave. Stupid to think that staying with her was going to be the best way to show that he cared. Of course, it was a good thing at first. She had him to depend on, had him to help her, and had him to hold her when she was scared. But she also had him to learn from, and that's what the problem was. Every day, she became more and more like him. And it wasn't what he wanted for her. She was still so young, so full of love for her fellow man, and he'd be damned if he let her turn out like him.  
  
She wouldn't see it that way, at least not for a while. She'd be angry, furious that he left her just when she was starting to grow up. She'd think he was a coward, and selfish bastard. And he knew that there'd be nights, when he was alone, that he'd wish he were. He'd wish he'd stayed, wish he'd told his conscience to fuck off and let things be. Let her become like him, then at least he'd have her and wouldn't be alone. But it would be too late, and ultimately, he would be grateful for it.  
  
Because he was coming back. He'd let her grow up, away from him, and then he'd barge back into her life. He was a man, not a saint, and he couldn't stay away from her forever. Not when she was the only person in the fucking universe who'd be sad to hear he died. Oh, he'd see her again, that was certain. Whether she'd want him in her life, well, as Imam would say, that's what praying is for. But for now, he'd have just to wait.   
  
And he was good at waiting. 


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Wow, I started the rest of this sooner than I expected. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, your comments are what encouraged me to continue. Please, keep it up! Also, the lyrics at the beginning are from "In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth" by the band _Coheed and Cambria_.

Disclaimer: I do not own Riddick, Jack, Imam, or any of the other Pitch Black/COR characters. Any other character is of my own creating, as are the circumstances of this story.

The Waiting Game

Chapter 1

__

The Navigator.

The Pilot.

Her favorite.

The one they call the vision, he bears the gift.

She didn't feel different. Not at all. Today was her eighteenth birthday, but it felt the same as any other day. Strange, how in twenty-four hours she went from being a child with a guardian to a legal adult, free to make her own decisions. She could buy cigarettes, apply for a hover license, hell, even hire a prostitute if she wanted too. No one had to take care of her now; she could be on her own. She could live alone and let herself become the only person she needed to rely on. Oh sure, she _could _do that. But she didn't want to. Not anymore.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, she decided that she needed some eyeliner. Black, to match her dress. Now that she was eighteen, she figured she might as well use that particular type of makeup. She never wore it before, because it made her look and feel too old. She hadn't felt old enough to pull of smoky, sultry eyes, just like she had never felt old enough to actually wear the little black dress she'd bought. But things were different now. She was eighteen. So she'd pulled the black dress out, tried it on, and for some reason, it now looked good on her. Really, really good. Just like the eyeliner was going to look, and the black strappy sandals too. And it was all because she was eighteen.

Eighteen. The age had big implications for everyone, and she knew it. But she couldn't help but feel that her eighteenth birthday was a bit more important than the average teenager's. After all, the average teenager didn't survive flesh-eating monsters on a deserted planet. The average teenager didn't live with a Muslim holy man. The average teenager didn't look forward to the return on a convicted mass murder with almost unbearable excitement. So it goes without saying the Jack wasn't the average teenager.

It wasn't as if she expected him to return today. In fact, she didn't expect him to come back for at least another six months. Yet the fact of the matter remained; his note had said he would be back when she was eighteen. And call her crazy, but she'd held onto that written promise with everything she had. As long as she remembered it, as long as she could look at the well-worn paper and see the words written in his spiky hand, then everything was okay. Because then, he hadn't really left her.

She hadn't always felt like this. It had taken her two years for her to forgive Riddick for leaving, and to believe that he had actually done it _because he cared_. Two years of feeling utterly alone, of lashing out at Imam, of locking herself off from every other human being. The latter had caused her many problems, especially at school. She had been fiercely anti-social, and hadn't a single friend as a result. Everyone had given up on her; teachers and counselors grew tired of her attitude and wrote her off as a hopeless case. Her peers had shunned her, labeling her as the schools resident psycho. There was one girl, Claudia, who had felt compassion for her and tried to get close, but Jack had cruelly pushed her away. She hadn't wanted a friend, all she had wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake-up. But sleep was no escape, not for her. She still had terrible nightmares, and no Riddick to help her through them. For two years, she had been absolutely miserable.

Then one day, for no reason at all, she'd decided to pull out the note he'd left her. She'd only read it once, that morning she'd woken up alone in their bed, and she suddenly felt the urge to look at it again. It was short and to the point, exactly what she would expect of him. Reading it over had been awful, and she'd been on the verge of ripping the paper to shreds, when her eyes found the last two sentences. _I'll be back once you've grown up, once you're eighteen. I promise._

After that, no one could believe she was the same girl. She treated Imam with respect and said that she would obey all his house rules. She started doing well in school. She asked Claudia to spend the night, and quickly became best friends with her. She made more friends too, and even started to enjoy shopping. From that day on, she decided to live her life as best she could, but always with the knowledge of his promise in the back of her mind. She never told Imam about the note, and she never spoke to Claudia about Riddick. Maybe it wasn't a mentally healthy thing for her to do, but she didn't care. That promise was her rock, and with it she was able have a fun, normal teenage existence.

The party she was going to was part of that existence. Despite her protests, Claudia and her other friends had arranged a party for her birthday, and seeing as the entire purpose of the party was to celebrate _her_, she had to attend. It wasn't as if she didn't like parties, but it seemed like every time she went to one, she ended up feeling disenchanted with everyone there. The mass of people, the drinking, the loud noise, the constant hook-ups and break-ups, it all just seemed so insignificant, so average. And nine times out of ten, she'd end up sitting in a secluded corner, nursing a drink and praying that no guy would attempt a conversation with her. Funny, it was during times like that that she had to question Imam's faith in God and the power of prayer. Because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape the teenage boys and their endless pickup lines.

She tried to give them all a chance, she really did. But they just couldn't compare to Riddick. Not one of them. And it was no one's fault but her own. Every time she met a guy, she did the same thing. She'd check out his arms, and find them lacking the right amount of muscle. She'd check out his eyes, and see the absence of a blue glow. She'd listen to his voice, and wonder why his chest didn't rumble when he talked. She did all of this, and in the first five minutes of talking, would decide she wasn't interested. This bothered her more than a little, but what could she do? What could she do when the only guy she wanted to hug was a convict, when the only guy she felt safe with was a murderer, when the only guy she'd want to sleep with was accused of rape? _Accused, but never convicted_, she told herself. But it didn't matter, the point was easy to make; she was a bit fucked in the head where guys were concerned.

Sighing, Jack did a final once over in the mirror. With her hair upswept and her makeup in place, she had to admit that she didn't look half bad. The dress fit her well, showcasing her small chest and lanky frame to its best advantage. Tonight was going to be fun, she'd make sure of it. After all, she didn't spend hours making herself look like a girl only to waste it by being immersed in thoughts of Riddick the whole time. Hearing a knock on the front door, she grabbed her small purse and looked at the clock. Claudia was a little early, but that wasn't surprising. She probably wanted to get there first and make sure she didn't miss a new potential boyfriend. Jack called to Imam as she walked unsteadily down the stairs (not quite used to wearing heels), and told him that she was leaving and not to wait up. Reaching the door keypad, she punched the code with one hand and smoothed out her dress with the other.

"Hey Claus, I thought the party didn't start till…" Her voice trailed off as she looked up from her dress. A large man was standing in her doorway, blocking out most of the evening light. He had long, thick dark hair down past his shoulders, and an unruly beard to match. He was wearing a stained black tank top and olive-green army pants that looked like they'd seen better days. Dark goggles covered his eyes, and she saw a glint of metal in his right hand. Her breath caught when, with a slow, deliberate motion, he lifted the goggles off his eyes, and sniffed the air.

"Been a long time since I smelled beautiful."


	3. chapter 2

A/N: I can't believe I got another chapter out this quick! I wish I could say that this is normal, but if you've ever read anything of mine before then you'd know that it so isn't! I'll try to keep on top of the updates as best I can, but I'm not promising anything. But remember, reviews are a writers fuel, so please keep all the wonderful comments coming! Thanks a ton to all of you who have reviewed, it means a lot!

Disclaimer: See Chapter 2

The Waiting Game

Chapter 3

The minute the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to ghost himself. Trust him to fuck this up; he hadn't seen her in over five years and the first thing he can think of is how beautiful she'd smell when he was coming inside her. All the slam psychologists had been right; he really was an animal. An animal that hadn't been laid in five years. Jesus, he knew he should have stopped at a whorehouse before he showed up here. Five years alone in the freezing cold was enough to make any man desperate, but Richard B. Riddick wasn't just any man. Modesty wasn't one of his strong suits, and he knew damn well that he had a sex drive most women only dreamt about. Too bad that it seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. Well, he'd said what he'd said, and all he could do now was to try to play the comment off. It wouldn't be too difficult, considering the way she was blankly staring at him. Shit, for all he knew she hadn't even heard him. That only made him feel marginally better.

"Jack? Think I could get a hug or something, kiddo? It's been a while". Nice job, he'd slipped that "kiddo" in there without even breaking his stride. She'd be none the wiser now. Only problem is that she's still looking at him like she's seen a ghost.

"Jack?" His voice was deeper this time, more intense, and he steped a bit closer. Maybe not sucha good idea, cause now he can smell her even more strongly, but his libido's been dampened in the face of his rising unease. Standing with the blood drained from her face was not of the good, and if his sense of smell didn't so deny it so strongly, he'd say she was afraid. Deathly afraid. He reached his hand out hesitantly, thinking to soothe her with a reassuring hug, but stopped in his tracks when he heard her voice.

"Riddick?" It was that same voice she'd used the night she had the nightmares, the night when she'd called out for him in her sleep. It was the same word, his name, spoken like it was something holy and revered. His guts twisted violently inside him, and his eyes began to sting as he remembered the scene for the millionth time. Even now, he couldn't believe he'd ever had the strength to leave her.

"Yeah kid, it's me." He was still standing close to her, so close he could feel her breath against his chest, but he made no move to touch her. He wasn't about to risk scaring her away.

"You came back." She didn't even looking at him when she spoke, her eyes glazed and slightly unfocused as she stared blankly ahead. Her voice held no emotion, no infliction; it was as blank as her stare.

"I promised I would, Jack. Did you doubt me?" He couldn't help himself; he let that last sentence come out as a challenge. He figured that at least he could glean some of her thoughts from her response, because her voice and face sure as hell weren't giving anything away. After all, it'd be nice to know if she was happy to see him, or just ready to shove a shiv up his ass.

"No." The word was just as blank as the rest of her. But then, she seemed to snap awake, as a broad smile broke her face and youthful enthusiasm filled her voice. In all of five seconds, she turned from an emotionless stranger to the young girl he'd saved. "Never had a doubt!" And the next thing he knew, he was encased in a fierce hug.

Having his arms full of Jack was a lot different than he remembered it to be. Gone was the little tomboy with the shorn hair and pointy elbows, she was all soft skin and curves now. She was still a bit lanky, her legs a little too long to be perfectly proportional, but that was to be expected. She'd been all legs and arms since he'd met her. And honestly, it was one of the things he'd loved about her. He'd loved how she was awkward when she moved, how she'd always seemed to be on the verge of losing her balance, how she'd wrap her entire body around him when he hugged her. He was no pedophile, and hadn't gotten any sexual gratification from those kinds of hugs; no, it was more of an emotional gratification, because she was displaying her inner dependence and trust by _literally_ latching on to him. It had made him feel like he was a part of her. But things were different now, and if he ever got another one of those hugs, he would _want_ become a part of her in every physical sense of the expression.

He held her for a long time, just held her and didn't speak. He couldn't bring himself to ruin the moment. When they finally did break apart, it was at her insistence. She pushed back slightly from his chest, and smiled up into his face. Jesus, he'd never see anything like that. She was glowing, literally _glowing_, her face all lit up and her eyes sparkling. She could be an angel, if there even were such things. Then, she drew in a deep breath, as though preparing to speak. He wished she'd just keep smiling at him.

"Riddick, I'm so glad you're…" The rest of sentence was swallowed up the obnoxious blare of a hover horn. The hover in question, silver and obviously expensive, pulled up to the front of the house. A teenaged girl with long blonde hair and impossibly pink lips was behind the wheel, and the back seat appeared to be filled with at least 3 or 4 other teenagers. _Her friends_, he thought. _Coming to take her out for her the big eighteen._ _Wonder if any of their parents taught them that it's rude to stare._

They _were _staring, eyes wide at the strange sight before them. None of them knew why the hell Jackie was wrapped around a guy who, for all intents and purposes, could be homeless. The others thought to ask Claudia, but it appeared that she was just as confused as the rest of them. Tentatively, she called out the window.

"Umm…you coming, Jackie?"

Riddick could see the indecision on Jack's face as plain as night. He could also see that he was going to win, hands down.

"Go with your friends, Jack."

She looked at him, clearly surprised, and maybe just a bit angry. "Are you serious? You think I'm gonna leave to see my sorry-ass friends when you're here? Sorry Riddick, but you're just a little bit more important to me."

He grabber her shoulders, and looked at her seriously. "Go with your friends, Jack. I'll be here when you get back. Have a good time, you only turn eighteen once."

"But Riddick…"

"I _said,_ go with your friends." He raised his voice just a little, to keep her from arguing. Looking slightly hurt, Jack nodded her head. She turned to walk past him, her eyes damp. He watched her for a second, and then, cursing, he sprinted forward and grabbed her arm. Spinning her around, he looked down in to her eyes.

"Hey, don't be upset. I want you to have fun tonight, so then I won't feel any guilt for making you stick around me for the next couple of days."

Her face perked up instantly. "Richard B. Riddick, feel guilty? Just what _have _you been doing these past five years?"

"Freezing my ass off on some godforsaken snowball, but we'll talk about that later. Bye Jack."

Shit, there was that smile again. She gave his arm a squeeze and turned, walking towards her uncharacteristically silent friends. He watched her get into the hover, and listened to the explosion of sound as she shut the door. He watched the girl behind the wheel start the car and pull out of the driveway. He watched until he couldn't hear the whir of the electronic engine anymore. Then, turning, he walked back up to the house. Imam was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and his expression mild. If he was at all surprised, he didn't show it. Standing to the side and a little behind Imam was a woman, probably about five years older than himself. _So the holy man finally got married. Interesting._

When he reached the door, Imam grasped his hand and shook it warmly. "Welcome back, Mr. Riddick. You've been greatly missed." It was foreign to him, the idea of being missed. Something he'd never thought would apply to him. Strange how different things were for him, now. Imam continued on.

"This is my wife, Laijun." The woman gave him a small, polite nod. He could smell the fear coming off her in waves. So maybe things hadn't changed too much. The thought was oddly comforting.

"I take it you're planning on staying with us, Mr. Riddick?"

"Yeah, or I could get a hotel if you don't have room." He answered the question knowing full well that Imam wouldn't allow it.

"Please, don't be ridiculous. We have more than enough room, and my wife and I, as well as Jack I'm sure, would be honored to have you here." Imam paused, and then looked him straight in the eye. "You do intend to stay for awhile, correct?"

He nodded his head. "Yeah, holy man. I'm not leaving any time soon."


End file.
